


making room for new regrets

by crownedcarl



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond
Genre: Age Difference, Gen, M/M, Mentor/Protégé
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 14:11:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7937680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcarl/pseuds/crownedcarl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce wants to keep him safe.</p><p>Bruce wants to fuck him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	making room for new regrets

**Author's Note:**

> i have no excuse for writing this. none.
> 
> tagged for age difference bc yikes, terry is in high school & bruce is a billion years old.
> 
> there's no explicit sex in this fic but some mentions; there are allusions to pedophilia, to boot. i am so very sorry.
> 
> bruce pov ahead; work title from the wallflowers. comments are my lifeblood !!!

Bruce doesn’t fuck the kid.

The kid is beautiful. The kid calls him Mister Wayne or boss or old man, but never Bruce, not once. He defers to Bruce despite his insistence that he knows best, that he can handle himself.

Bruce wants to keep him safe.

Bruce wants to fuck him.

(Bruce wants to take care of him. Sleeping with him isn’t an option.)

-

Terry McGinnis possesses all the qualities of youth that Bruce, old and worn as he is, cannot stand. He doesn’t enjoy his life of solitude, but Terry reminds him of why he turned to peace and quiet in the first place.

Bruce has outlived and outlasted too many people he called partner. He doesn’t doubt that Terry, too, will make the ultimate sacrifice for him, willing or not.

Bruce destroys the things he holds dear. He doesn’t know how not to. He’s tried to save instead of condemn, but the end result has never varied.

The Robins leave. Batgirl left. All his beautiful, broken children are gone now.

-

Terry doesn’t remind him of the others, not at all.

He isn’t Dick, who came to him with empty pockets and high expectations.

He isn’t Jason, who came to him with steel in his eyes and a violent heart.

He isn’t Tim, poor Tim, Tim who never got over it.

Terry expects nothing from him that first night. Terry seems to not expect much at all even after that.

Bruce does his best, but his best is never enough. He guides Terry, but he knows deep down that this will end badly for him. The curse of the former Batman is a sinister thing. He’ll make them happy to have died for him.

-

Nothing can come of this, nothing at all, but Terry is as fierce and insistent as Bruce’s previous partners.

He takes what he wants, the way that Jason might have. Terry sits eerily still as Bruce bandages his chest and his arm, and Bruce realizes that these will be his first scars in the line of duty. He doubts that they will be the last.

Terry sucks in a sharp breath when Bruce’s weathered hands travel across his chest, and he can’t quite remember if he meant to do that, going so very far astray. Remembering is harder, these days. Memory is a fickle thing. He swears that he can sometimes see other dark-haired figures besides Terry roaming the halls.

The manor has been empty for too long.

“Are you going to…?”

Bruce allows himself to look straight at Terry, searching his eyes. He’s beautiful. He’s too beautiful for an old man like Bruce, an old man that’s meant to be a mentor and a protector, not this. Not this.

He doesn’t need to hear the end of Terry’s question. It hangs in the air. _Are you going to kiss me?_

He is too old for romance. Terry is too young. “I can’t give you what you want,” Bruce says.

“You can,” the kid insists mulishly, then takes the breath out of Bruce when he adds “You do.”

Bruce is an old man who’s broken far too many promises to be forgiven. He deserves this exile, this haunted home. Terry should never have entered his life and decided to stay despite the mess.

Bruce wants, and therein lays the problem. He wonders if perhaps he’s always wanted.

Did it start with Dick, or Jason, or is this unique to the boy sitting before him? Bruce can’t tell. He is terrified.

“I won’t push if you don’t want to,” Terry says, bringing Bruce out of those terrible daydreams. “But I think you want to.”

Madness, that’s what it would be. To give in to Terry’s request would be to take it one step too far. This is a sin Bruce cannot wash himself clean of.

He yearns. His old bones desire a place to rest.

“Would you like to,” Bruce starts, then reconsiders, one dry palm against Terry’s jaw. “May I?”

Terry smiles at him. “You kept me waiting long enough.”

-

The kiss changes everything and nothing. Terry is as brash as ever, as reckless as ever, but there are nights where he’ll take Bruce’s trembling hands in his own and kiss his knuckles, perhaps looking to assure them both that no matter what else, the two of them are alive and well and together.

Bruce is too old for him, but Terry won’t listen, and it might break his heart for Bruce to say no, but Bruce is no saint. The company of a lithe, warm body beside his own in bed is more than welcome.

In bed, Terry asks for nothing. Bruce is as agile as a man his age can be expected to be, but Terry has never expressed disappointment at the fact that the man he’s chosen is inadequate in more ways than one. There are times where they will spend whole evenings kissing. There are nights where Terry will slam the door on him and then crawl into bed beside him in the night and whisper an apology.

It can’t last. Bruce knows that there will come a time when Terry’s affection will turn to resentment, but Bruce isn’t concerned for himself. He can’t let another beautiful, brave child lose their soul. He’s done enough damage as it is.

There are things he doesn’t tell Terry. Bruce rarely talks about the Robins. He can’t. He chokes on the words, sometimes, but it’s best that Terry doesn’t know. Bruce is a monster, but as long as Terry needs him, as long as Terry _wants_ him, Bruce won’t force him to leave.

It would be safer that way, but Bruce is only a man. Terry breathes warm and heavy against the back of his neck and Bruce forgets the reasons not to let him.

-

Barbara knows.

Bruce doesn’t ask how she knows. The Barbara of the past might not have been that perceptive, but it’s been a long time since she was so young, so naïve.

“He’s a child,” she says over coffee.

“I know,” Bruce responds, because there is little else to say. He’s said it to himself enough times before losing himself in Terry’s warm, pliant body.

“You’ll destroy him.”

“I know,” Bruce says. He’s destroyed enough precious things to recognize a pattern.

Barbara removes her glasses and puts her head in her hands. For one terrible moment, Bruce fears that she may cry, or scream, but all she does is raise her head and stare him down.

“There’s something wrong with you,” she says, “I didn’t want to believe it, back then, but there’s something wrong with you, Bruce. He’s a child. We were all children.”

Yes. She isn’t wrong. Bruce’s apologies will do her no good. She has a life, now. She’s moved on from him. Everyone must, eventually.

“He’s old enough to know what he wants.”

Bruce doesn’t aim to defend himself. He’s defending Terry. Terry, bright and beautiful, Terry who is so certain of what he wants that Bruce doesn’t have the heart to deny him.

Maybe that’s his problem. Maybe that’s been his problem all along, considering himself as the one making a sacrifice.

 _God help me_ , Bruce thinks, but he isn’t praying. He’s begging. He begs often, these days.

Barbara’s eyes are hard as she rises to leave. She used to love him, once. “I don’t want to hear from you again,” she tells him, steadfastly refusing to meet his eyes. “And the kid – he’s welcome. But not you and I mean it, this time.”

She does. Bruce doesn’t doubt her.

-

“You don’t live here,” Bruce sighs, taking his time in getting down the stairs as Terry rubs Ace behind the ears, sauntering into the kitchen to prepare their coffee – Bruce’s coffee, in all honesty. Terry doesn’t enjoy the taste.

“I could,” Terry says, but he shrugs as if the comment is casual, easily dismissed. He must understand the gravity of what he’s saying. “I’m your-“

Bruce falters on the last step, but Terry is there in moments, clasping his arm and easing him down. “Your personal assistant,” Terry finishes, smiling slightly. “Mister Wayne.”

His smile brightens when Bruce shakes his head in fond exasperation – what else is there to do but accept this fate, now? “Brat,” Bruce mutters, but Terry smiles unfailingly. Bruce strokes his thumb along Terry’s lower lip and breathes.

-

(Bruce opens the gate for Dana Tan.

She is a friend of Terry’s, she says. She doesn’t leave when Bruce tells her that Terry isn’t currently at the mansion.

Over tea, she looks pensive, sad. Her mouth twitches nervously. Ace lays at her feet, nudging at her bare ankle, and she musters up an unconvincing smile.

“I’m worried,” the girl tells him. “About Terry.”

Bruce doesn’t jump to conclusions. Terry understands that the more people that know his secrets, the more likely they are to be hurt. Terry has a lot of secrets, now, all of them Bruce’s fault.

“Is that so?” he inquires, voice steady. In Dana’s eyes, he must be a nonthreatening, feeble old man. Perhaps he is. Perhaps the young lady wouldn’t dare open up otherwise. “He has been invaluable,” Bruce goes on. “Are you afraid I’m overworking him?”

Dana looks relieved at Bruce taking the reins from her and steering the conversation. “Yeah,” she admits, then corrects herself. “Yes. Mister Wayne, Terry - we hardly see him, anymore. I wish you’d let him have a day off…”

Bruce nods, staring down at the floor. What would he do if he didn’t have Terry’s company in this huge, empty house? He remembers how long the days seemed before Terry, but now, Bruce is afraid that he never has enough time.

Terry might stay or he might go. It isn’t up to Bruce. He’d feel guilty, either way, for having become such a large part of Terry’s life.

“I understand,” he tells Dana, wondering if she knows. Wondering if she’d believe the truth even if Terry told her. “I suppose I can spare him the time to see his girlfriend. Forgive me, I sometimes...sometimes forget that he’s needed elsewhere.”

“Oh, no,” Dana’s quick to jump in, flushing. “He’s not - we’re not -”

No. Bruce is awfully relieved. Terry would have every right to kiss this beautiful young girl, yet…

He’s chosen to stay here, with Bruce.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he tells Dana, and there’s something about her that reminds him of - of -

“It’s no problem, sir,” she assures him, clearing her throat awkwardly. She stands up and insists on not being walked to the door; the cane allows Bruce the excuse to stay in his armchair as Dana lets herself out.

He must fall asleep. Bruce opens his eyes and realizes that a blanket has been draped across his lap. Terry is kneeling before the coffee table, doing homework.

A strange warmth engulfs Bruce in that moment. “Your friend paid me a visit,” he tells Terry, smiling slightly at the way Terry startles and cocks his head at him, frowning. He looks tired. He must not be getting enough sleep. “Miss Dana Tan. She worries about you.”

After a brief pause, Bruce adds “She worries you’re spending too much time here with me.”

“Too much?” Terry echoes, and Bruce thinks of Terry’s things strewn across his floor, the little bits and pieces of his life that have recently found themselves a new home in the mansion. “Nah, old man. Never enough.”

Never enough, Bruce thinks. He understands that sentiment perfectly.

“Come here,” he asks, “Please.”

Terry walks over. He looks beautiful, despite the unruly hair and the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looks as beautiful as ever. Once he’s seated on the armrest, Bruce caresses his cheek, his jaw.

There are many things he wants to say, but none of the words come easily. In the end, between breaths, with his mouth pressing a kiss to Terry’s cheek, Bruce speaks.

“Don’t let me ruin this,” he says. Terry wraps an arm around his shoulders, steadying him. His words are very quiet in the vast room around them.

“I’ve told you before, Bruce,” and it’s the first time Terry has used his name, spoken it so softly. “I’m here to stay.”)


End file.
